


Sun, Sun, Sun, So What the Heck

by OkProblematic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Too Many Metaphors, that's about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:48:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkProblematic/pseuds/OkProblematic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn can't find the words to describe Niall and it's killing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun, Sun, Sun, So What the Heck

Zayn is going to drown in Niall’s eyes.

It’s not even because he can’t swim, no, it’s because he’s going to be distracted by the golden bits of sand and the bright white pieces of saltwater. He’s going to fall into them and never climb back out, is going to slip to the bottom of them and find new life there.

Not that he minds.

He tried, once, to write about Niall’s eyes; the ocean wasn’t a good enough analogy. Neither was the ice of Antarctica or the colour of the sky when the sun is half set (and only half set, there’s a difference; it’s closer to Louis’ eyes when it rises. It’s not the same). Zayn doesn’t think that there is a real colour or comparison he could use and be adequate enough.

So he makes one up. (It doesn’t please him either.)

—

Niall’s skin is going to be the Death of Zayn.

He thinks that one day, he’ll be blinded by pale white beneath him. One day, he’ll simply melt into pretty, lithe, alabaster thighs and never be anything again. Maybe he’ll just trip and fall into an endless pool of elegant porcelain skin.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing.

It’s possible that someone could write sonnets about Niall’s complexion, but Zayn can’t. Zayn never could because he thinks that the fair peaches-and-crème colour could never be described. Not even calling it “better than words” will do, not for Zayn.

Zayn smokes cigarettes and hopes that one day, he’ll inhale too deeply and light his insides on fire; he’ll go to Niall and just lie on the boy in his bed and disintegrate into wonderful ivory. He’d become nothingness, but at least he’d be happy.

—

Zayn thinks Niall’s lips are killer; he’s going to die.

Roses and strawberries and those stupid jeans Louis wore two summers ago are nothing when placed next to the lush, red hue of Niall’s lips. They don’t compare to the bright, shining red, the swollen, slick burgundy after Zayn kisses him.

He thinks he might spill his own blood just to see if it’s the same colour (it won’t be; nothing will). He doesn’t think it would be all that hard of a way to die.

There’s the glamorous Hollywood red, but there’s also the soft pink. Roses still don’t compare; neither do cotton candy or pink lemonade. The colour of dying hearts still beating doesn’t to any justice either. They never stay that shade long because Zayn always, always kisses them until they’re sore, tries to hide himself in them (he never gets deep enough).

Niall’s lips are killers and Zayn is a victim, he’s going to trip, one day, and end up in a lovely rouge part of space where his spaceship will run out of fuel and he’ll create a new home even as it covers him and suffocates him.

It’s the best way he’s yet to go out.

—

Niall’s laugh is loud; Zayn’s brain is going to combust.

The laugh that lights up oceans (and ice and the sky and fucking planets) of blue and flushes plains (and miles and plots and stretches of heat) of white and splits pieces (roses and blood and strawberries and cotton candy) of red is so loud. It is bright and endearing and so God damn pretty.

Zayn tries to sing songs about it, tried to tell the world about how it’s nothing like riptides and waterfalls and earthquakes, how it’s better.

He can’t find the words.

Zayn thinks that maybe if Niall laughs loud enough, in just the right place, he’s going to walk to the beach and lay in the sand, let the water rush his head as his brain leaks out of his ears because then maybe it’ll mix with the waves and takes his thoughts away. He’d be so pleased to find himself a piece of Niall because Niall is the ocean and Zayn is a mere mortal.

A mortal helplessly infatuated with something much bigger than he.

—

Zayn is going to cut himself on Niall’s bones and bleed out.

It’s not that he’s clumsy, except he is, no, he would very much like to runs his fingertips along all of Niall’s sharp bits until they bleed, until there is red running down his hands (they’ll never match Niall’s lips, anyways).

He had tried to compose a poem about it once and ended up with a paper cut he hoped, whished, dreamed, pretended was from Niall’s hips and Niall had only glanced at him and smiled with his murderous lips because he knew.

Zayn wants Niall’s jaw line to meet his own and cut it open, let it bleed forever.

—

Niall’s body is a star; Zayn is going to burn alive.

Zayn isn’t afraid of space, no, but he doesn’t want to go there. Space is shiny and incandescent with stars and comets and things that almost describe Niall. Space is hot and full of a fire he can’t see. Niall’s body is made of heat and fire and molten lava, burning and beating and alive.

Zayn is going to set fire to his bones and be eaten away. It’s not awful in the slightest.

Once, Zayn had tried to admire Niall, tried to create metaphors and similies for his tiny little body but had come up short. He had tried to say everything he could possibly think of, the fire in Niall’s eyes, the tints of flame beneath his skin, the red from the fire in his lips, the roaring of the flames in his laugh, the sharp bleeding of skin burned by fire.

It didn’t work.

—

Zayn wants to be destroyed by Niall.

He wants Niall touching him and pulling him apart and making him bleed and cry and fall to pieces. He wants Niall to ruin him and to never let him go, even after he’s nothing but melted skin and ashes for bones; until he’s nothing but a shell of himself, filled with the colours and sounds and ideas that are almost Niall but not quite.

It’s possible that Zayn want Niall to push him off a cliff if it means that Niall will let Zayn look at him forever.

He’s definitely going to drown in Niall’s eyes and melt in to Niall’s skin and suffocate on Niall’s lips and lose his brain by the sound of Niall’s laugh and cut himself open on all of Niall’s sharp bits and burn alive because Niall is fire all because Niall is Niall and Niall is so beautiful that Zayn wants to cry.

But he’d much rather die if it meant that Niall got an extra little life to carry around so everybody could continue to see such amazing beauty.

Maybe he’ll rip his own heart out because Niall makes it hurt.

Except Niall won’t let him because Niall thinks Zayn is just as wonderful, if not more so.

**Author's Note:**

> Also littleredmalik on Tumblr.


End file.
